The Wait is the Hardest Part
by Faithful Penelope
Summary: Hikaru Sulu knows he should stay away.
The day Nero attacks, and it all goes to hell, that's the first time they meet.

Sulu has heard stories about the Russian whiz kid who starts the Academy before most people are out of high school, but doesn't know it's _that_ kid sitting next to him until he swings around and tells Pike, "Chekov, sir, Pavel Andreievich,". Then Kirk (Kirk he recognizes, because _everybody_ knows Kirk) bursts onto the bridge and it _really_ all goes to hell, and Sulu is free falling, Kirk yelling in his ear, and he can't help but think, he never even got a chance to introduce himself to his new navigator.

But then he hits the transported pad, still wrapped around Kirk, and who's standing there, whooping in Russian, but Chekov. His face is flushed and he's grinning like a loon, and maybe it's the extreme brush with death that's only just passed but Sulu thinks he's never seen anything cuter in his life.

Afterwards, when the _Enterprise_ has been towed back to Earth, they all return to the Academy, to what used to be normalcy but now seems incredible inane. It's a long week until the announcement comes down: James T. Kirk, luckiest bastard in the universe, has been handed the _Enterprise_ , and made the youngest captain in Starfleet history. Not only that, he has forced the admiralty to give him what he is now referring to as _his_ crew – McCoy, of course, even though he's got about a dozen better offers on hard ground and the mere mention of space still makes him scowl, and Scotty, whose transwarp equation has put him back in Starfleet's good graces, Admiral Archer being the sole exception, and Uhura and Sulu and the Russian whiz kid, Chekov. They make it through graduation and the repairs to the _Enterprise_ until they're back on the ship, and when Spock shows up to offer his services as First Officer, Kirk accepts.

Then Sulu slides back behind the conn, and Chekov takes his seat at navigation, and it all just kind of feels right.

They make it through the first shift without a major catastrophe, and then the next, and the next, and they all relax a little, and actually start doing normal, social things instead of constantly bracing themselves for impact. Sulu forms a routine, one that usually includes breakfast with Chekov, first because they are navigator and pilot and need to be on the same page, and then because they find they enjoy each other's company.

And, Sulu realizes, because it wasn't the brush with death that made him think Chekov was so cute.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's six months later, and Chekov's back from an away mission that just barely managed to not go completely ass over tea kettle, when he shows up at Sulu's door. Sulu waves him in before noticing the pinched look n Chekov's face.

"What's wrong?"

"Today, on the away mission. When we were attacked, Commander Spock just shoved me to the side and told me to stay put because he didn't think I could do anything." Chekov lets out a frustrated huff. "Everyone thinks I'm a fragile little boy."

Sulu hates to agree but it's kind of true, the crew does tend to think of Chekov as their little brother. He _is_ only seventeen, and his youthful appearance doesn't help. The eager eyes and curly hair. Those pursed lips trying to make out his 'v's.

Sulu has been thinking about those pursed lips a lot lately.

"You are the only one that doesn't treat me that way."

Sulu blinks, shakes the thought of anybody's lips out of his head. "Yeah, well, I spend a lot more time with you. I know you're a lot stronger than you might appear."

Chekov looks surprised, then gives a shy smile to that, and Sulu smiles back. That's the truth too, that while he may sometimes appear closer to a puppy than an officer, Chekov has nerves of steel and a brain that works so fast, he sometimes beats the computer. He's started sending over coordinates before Sulu can even give him any directions, and Sulu has stopped double-checking them, and just flies where Chekov tells him to go.

Sulu realizes the room has gone quiet, and when he looks up, Chekov's normally animated face is unreadable. He has no idea with Chekov is thinking so he says the first thing that comes to mind.

"But I could help you. You know, if you wanted. With the fighting. With training." As soon as it's out the inherent problem in his proposition becomes obvious, namely: Chekov, in close quarters. Sweaty. Writhing against him.

 _Oh, shit_.

There's a flicker of something in Chekov's eyes, something heady, before he grins and the baby face returns. "Da! That would be excellent, thank you."

Sulu nods, and wonders exactly he's gotten himself into.

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Chekov actually isn't a terrible fighter, except for the fact that he follows his Academy training down to the smallest move and is thus completely predictable.

"You have to just feel it sometimes," Sulu tells him as they gather up their things after the lesson. "Following the rulebook works for a lot of things, but not fighting."

Poor Chekov looks lost. "I follow the rulebook for everything," he admits, and Sulu chuckles, because he isn't surprised.

"Don't you do anything that _doesn't_ require a rulebook? That doesn't require thinking?"

Chekov actually has to think about it. But then his face goes red and he shakes his head. "No, nothing."

"You thought of something."

"No, it is nothing." The flush creeps into his ears.

Now Sulu's really intrigued. "Come on, Pavel. You can tell me."

His head quirks up at Sulu's use of his first name. "I..." He rubs the back of his neck. "Kissing."

Sulu tries to keep his mouth shut, he does, but his jaw still drops a little. "Kissing," he repeats weakly. Suddenly finds his mind full of all sorts of interesting questions. Who has Chekov been kissing, and when. What else has he been doing.

Chekov looks horrified that he's even said the word. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, I'll go -"

"No!" Sulu grabs his arm before he can run. "No, it's fine. Kissing." He swallows, tries to get some moisture back in his dry mouth. "That makes sense."

"Obviously, I think a lot," Chekov jokes. Sulu doesn't respond right away and Chekov stutters out, "because, I do not do much kissing, I have work to do -"

"Yeah, no, I get it," Sulu interrupts. "So, ah, you're telling me I have to kiss you before any future lessons?" It's out before he can censor himself, and Chekov's eyes go so wide Sulu's afraid he's gonna have to call McCoy.

 _What the fuck did I just say._

"Medbay to Sulu."

Sulu has never been so happy to hear Christine Chapel's voice in his life. He fumbles in his pocket for his communicator. "Sulu here."

"Do you forget you're overdue for your physical, Lieutenant?"

He had, actually. "Yes. Sorry. I will be right there. Sulu out." Chekov's still standing there, looking a little shell-shocked, so Sulu gestures towards the door. "I gotta go - Chapel's waiting - uh, see you later?"

"Da," Chekov answers quickly. "Yes, of course."

Sulu tries to smile normally and takes off down the hall for Medbay. The turbolift doors slid shut behind him and he buries his head in his head and groans.

 _Fuck. Real smooth, Hikaru._

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Sulu takes his dinner in his quarters that night, and his breakfast the next morning. When he gets to the bridge, Chekov is already there. He looks up when he hears Sulu pass and Sulu swears he sees confusion, and hurt, and maybe something else in his eyes. But all he says is, "good morning, Lieutenant."

"Morning." He takes his seat at the conn and before he can even get settled Chekov's coordinates pop up on his screen. He glances over to his right but Chekov's focused on his console.

Behind them, Kirk glances to his right. McCoy raises an eyebrow in response.

"Everything all right, gentlemen?"

"Yes, sir," they both say at the same time, and it breaks the tension a little. Sulu hazards another glance and sees Chekov smiling the tiniest bit.

"In that case, Dr. McCoy and I will be in my ready room. Lieutenant, you have the conn."

"Yes, sir," Sulu says, and when Kirk and McCoy are gone, he takes a quick look around behind him to make sure everyone else is focused on their own stations, then turns back to Chekov. "Hey."

Chekov looks up from his calculations. "Hi."

"Listen, about yesterday -" He doesn't know what he's going to say about yesterday.

"You were joking," Chekov says quickly. "I know you were making a joke. It's fine."

 _Actually, I wasn't,_ Sulu wants to say, but just clears his throat instead. "So, we're - we're okay then?"

"Of course." Chekov's voice is steady but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. Then Spock calls Chekov over to his station, and that's the end of the conversation.

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Spock's still working with Chekov when the shift ends, so Sulu surrenders his seat to McKenna and heads back to his quarters alone. It feels wrong without Chekov chattering beside him, walking him to his quarters like a high school date before continuing on to his own quarters four doors down. He keys in his code and walks in, flopping down on the couch with a pathetic sigh.

How could he have fucked this up so spectacularly.

Sulu's no Casanova, but he's got pretty good game, and his bed hadn't exactly been lonely at the Academy. He had always preferred a straight forward approach: you like someone, you tell them so, and go from there. His partners seemed to appreciate it, that he didn't play games, and even after it was over he'd ended up on good terms with most of them.

And then Chekov came along.

Sweet, smart Pavel, all enthusiasm and faith and light. Sulu loves the stars, he does, but when Pavel looks out into the universe it's something else, a wonder that Sulu feels like he lost a long time ago, if he ever had it at all. People mistake it for a childish innocence but Sulu knows it's something else, a deeper appreciation for the mechanics of it all. It was on the observation deck that Sulu first realized just how bad he had it, when he walked in on Pavel gazing out the window in rapture and Sulu had to fold his arms against his chest to keep from reaching out and grabbing him and kissing him senseless.

Because he can't. He shouldn't. Not with Pavel, who may be brilliant but is still only seventeen. Sulu's just 23 but he feels like a lecherous old man when he's in bed in the dark and he starts thinking about what he would do to Pavel, if he just let him.

He shakes his head. He can't start thinking about that. He needs a distraction, so he pushes up off the couch. He'll go to the botany bay, work with his plants until he can breathe a little better. His doors slide open, and he steps out.

And directly into Chekov.

"Oh shit -"

"I'm sorry -"

Sulu stumbles but Chekov grabs his arm before he can fall, and Sulu just bumps the wall instead. He looks down to where Chekov's hand wraps around his elbow and Chekov yanks the hand away. "I'm sorry," he says quickly.

"Were you waiting outside my quarters?" Sulu asks.

"Yes," Chekov responds, because the kid is almost incapable of lying. "I - I didn't know if you'd want to talk to me."

Sulu curses himself again for creating such a mess. "Of course I would. You're my friend." Chekov looks relieved but doesn't say anything, and Sulu realizes he's waiting for an invitation. "Did you - did you want to come in?"

"You look like you were leaving."

"No, it's fine. I was just going to check on my plants but it can wait." Sulu steps back into his quarters and Chekov follows, pausing directly inside the threshold. It reminds Sulu of when they first met, when Sulu had to tell him to stop calling him lieutenant and just sit down on the couch, already. "Sit, Pavel. You want a drink?"

Chekov's lip quirks up. "I do not suppose you have any vodka," he says, except he's Pavel and it comes out _wodka,_ and Sulu has to smile.

"No, sorry." His smile fades when he thinks about what Chekov's request implies. "I didn't realize you needed vodka to talk to me."

Chekov's cheeks pink up, and he looks down, suddenly shy.

"Look, Pavel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable or whatever. It was..." He can't say it was a joke, because it wasn't. "It was stupid of me. I shouldn't have said it."

"Were you making fun of me?"

"What?" The question comes out of nowhere, and Sulu can't believe Chekov would even ask it. "No, Pavel!"

"Then why did you say it?"

"What do you mean - I told you, it just came out, it was stupid."

Chekov's eyes narrow. "You don't just say stupid things, Hikaru."

"Everyone says stupid things every once in a while."

"You don't," Chekov retorts. "I know, because I listen to everything you say. You joke, and you tell stories, but you don't just say stupid things. And you don't say things you don't mean."

Sulu feels like he's rapidly losing control of the conversation and he isn't sure how to get it back.

"So the only thing I can think of -" he's got the same tone of voice he uses when he's working on a problem with the warp core, like Sulu's a computation to be figured out - "the only thing I can think of is that you actually want to kiss me."

 _Well, son of a bitch,_ Sulu thinks. _Kid's got balls._

"Is this correct?"

 _BIG balls._

"I -" Sulu puts his hands on his hips, tries to figure out if he has the courage to answer the question. He doesn't, so he hedges his bets instead. "What if it is?"

Chekov swallows hard, and Sulu feels like a total ass for forcing the kid to take the lead. "This would be...a favorable outcome."

Sulu can't help it, he laughs, because that's such a Pavel thing to say. "A favorable outcome," he repeats.

Chekov nods, a sharp tilt of his head, curls bouncing. He's so tense he looks like he might burst, and Sulu wants nothing more in the world than to soothe the tension away. So, he reaches out, slowly, and cups Pavel's cheek. Chekov's eyes flutter shut, and he leans into the touch.

Sulu knows he needs to step away, _now_ , but he can't help himself and steps closer instead, and when he runs his thumb along Chekov's lower lip, Pavel whimpers, actually _whimpers_ , his name.

It's a sound Sulu's only imagined in his dreams and it goes straight to his gut at the same time it trips what may be the last semblance of logic and responsibility left functioning in his brain, and he steps back, like he's been scalded. " _Fuck._ We can't do this. I can't do this."

Chekov's eyes bug and he's silent for a second before he lets loose a stream of invectives in Russian and English and some other languages he's probably picked up from Uhura that grows increasing loud until he's yelling so loud Sulu's pretty sure they'll hear him on the bridge. "For fuck's sake, Hikaru," he bellows, and his use of English obscenities is both shocking and disturbingly _hot_ , "why will you not just _kiss_ me?"

"You think I don't want to?" Sulu hollers back, and if he wasn't so far gone he'd be ashamed of the desperation in his voice. "I _can't_ , Pavel."

"Why. Not."

"You know why not. Because I'm twenty-three and you're only -"

" _Only seventeen_. God, I know." Chekov makes a furious noise. "I may be only seventeen but I know what I want!"

"It's not you I doubt, Pavel," Sulu says, because it's the truth. He would never doubt Pavel, not with his navigation, not with his life. "But you're young. Shit, according to Starfleet, you're not even a consenting adult yet!"

Chekov scoffs. "I am not a consenting adult? But I am old enough to navigate their flagship?"

It's a good point, and Sulu doesn't know why to say, so he just throws his hands up in the air.

"So if I were not _only seventeen_ , as I will be in 5 weeks - " to this Sulu perks up, because in all his mooning he's completely forgotten Chekov's birthday is in a little more than a month – "then you would kiss me?"

"Yes – no – it's more complicated than that, Pavel. Six years is a big difference when one of us is still a teenager!"

"I am not still a – okay, fine, I will be. But I'll be a teenager than started high school at 9 and Starfleet Academy at 13 so there should be some sort of, how you say…grading curve, shouldn't there?"

At that, Sulu has to laugh. "Not unless you want me to start giving you report cards, Pavel."

"I've always been an excellent test-taker," Chekov retorts with an eyebrow waggle, and Sulu has to look away as to not encourage him. "Hikaru..."

"No," Sulu says immediately, and Chekov huffs in frustration. "No. 6 years, Pavel. And I am not going to be responsible for deflowering the _Enterprise_ 's youngest crew member while he's still a minor."

"What does it mean, deflowering – " Chekov makes an indignant noise when he figures it out on his own. "I am not a virgin, Hikaru!"

Sulu can't help it, he makes a shocked noise. "You're _not?"_ Chekov looks pissed. "No – not that – I just assumed you were so fucking busy getting through the Academy by the time more kids learning to drive their parents' hovercars that you didn't have the time!"

"No! I have had sex!" Chekov's voice falters at the end and Sulu senses there's something more to the story. "With a woman."

Sulu waits.

"Once." Another pause. "Almost."

Sulu groans. " _Pavel_. What the hell does _almost_ mean?"

"It was – look, like you said, I was busy with other things!" His eyes narrow and he steps in Sulu's space. "You want I should go find some other people to have sex with so you do not feel so dirty with the inexperienced boy?"

Something in Sulu snaps at the thought of someone else kissing Chekov, touching him, making him fall apart, and he loses the fight for control and slams Chekov up against the closest wall. " _Fuck, no,"_ he growls, and presses his body up against Chekov's, feels his hardness against his hip. "Nobody touches you but me." He knows that's not for him to command but Chekov's eyes go wide with desire.

" _Da_ , yes, only you," he pants, grabbing at Sulu's shirt, his neck. "Only you."

"Only me," Sulu pants back. "Okay. Fuck. Five weeks." Chekov wails out his dissent. " _No_. Pavel, we have to wait. What if Starfleet finds out? What if they transfer one of us?"

Chekov's brilliant mind obviously hadn't considered that possibility because he freezes up. " _Oh_."

"Yeah, oh."

"Okay." Chekov takes a deep breath and releases his death grip on Sulu's shirt. "Five weeks."

"Five weeks," Sulu repeats. "After five weeks if you still want this -"

" _When_ I still want this," Chekov interrupts, and Sulu grins.

" _Then_ we will do something about it, I promise." He strokes Chekov's face and watches as those long eyelashes flutter.

"You cannot just kiss me now?" Chekov pleads. "Just this once?"

Sulu drops his hand. "I can't, Pavel, I really can't, because if I do, there's no way I'm going to be able to stop myself."

"I…" Chekov sighs. "Five weeks."

"We can do it," Sulu assures him.

"I know we can," Chekov says, and a twinkle sparks in his eye. "I think I shall rather like opening my birthday present this year."

Sulu grins. "I'll make sure of it."

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Sulu doesn't know what else to do, so he shoves Chekov out of his quarters, tells him go home and take a cold shower, to which Chekov just grins, and then jumps in his own shower and jerks off, coming harder than he can ever remember at the thought of Chekov doing the same thing.

Chekov's not at breakfast the next morning, and he's not on the bridge early, which worries Sulu until Pavel scampers in with just seconds before his shift is supposed to start, his curls still damp from the shower.

"Running late, Ensign?" Kirk asks.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I…spilled my breakfast and had to change," Chekov stutters. Then he shoots Sulu a side eye and Sulu realizes it wasn't breakfast that got Chekov's uniform so dirty, and he makes a little _eep_ sound, and has to cough to cover it up.

 _Shit._

Chekov's coordinates pop up his console and he is grateful for the distraction. Then another message pops up.

 _36 days_.

 _That little bastard,_ Sulu thinks.

He hazards a glance at Chekov, who is watching him out of the corner of his eye with a tiny smile. Sulu makes a face that he hopes reads as, _cut it out_ , but must come off as constipated because Chekov just snickers.

"Lieutenant?" Kirk's voice breaks in. "Planning on taking us anywhere anytime soon?"

 _SHIT_. "Yes, sir," he barks, and sets course.

36 days. He can do it.

At least he hopes he can.

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Chekov doesn't make it easy, with his daily reminders and sly looks, but Sulu manages to not manhandle him into the closest Jefferies tube and have his way with him. A week goes by, then two, and suddenly Chekov's reminders are in the single digits, and Sulu realizes, it's not far that Chekov's having all the fun.

So he beats Chekov to the bridge, and is already settled by the time Chekov sits. "You missed breakfast," he says, but before he can question Sulu further his console lights up, right by his hand.

 _5 days_.

His eyebrow quirks, and the console blinks again.

 _5 days until I can kiss you_.

Chekov isn't as smooth as Sulu and he can't cover up the surprised noise he makes. Sulu tucks his head and tries to fight back his grin.

"Ensign?" McCoy is there, as is normal for first thing in the morning, and he zeroes in on Chekov's apparent distress.

"I'm fine," Chekov squeaks, and frantically clears Sulu's messages.

"You look a little piqued." McCoy goes to lay his hand on Chekov's forehead. "You running a fever?"

"Nyet - no!" Chekov ducks McCoy's hand. "No, thank you, doctor." He's flustered so it comes out _zhank you,_ and Sulu almost feels a little bad. "I am fine."

McCoy eyes him suspiciously, then glances at Sulu, who gives an innocent shrug of his shoulders. "All right. You see me if anything changes."

"Yes, sir."

McCoy returns to his conversation with Kirk and Chekov glares at Sulu, who just grins back. Then a message pops up.

 _It is on._

Sulu blinks.

"You better not be getting sick, Pavel. It would be shame for you to miss your own party." Kirk clasps Chekov's shoulder and Chekov jumps.

"Sir, as I said before, you do not have to throw me a party."

"Nonsense!" Kirk booms. "You only turn eighteen once, Ensign."

"Says the man who claimed his twenty-first birthday three years in a row," McCoy points out. Uhura snickers behind him and Kirk glares at them both and mumbles something about insubordination before turning back to Chekov.

"Come on, Chekov. It's gonna be awesome. And good for crew morale!"

"Well, in that case, I will not object," Chekov says wryly, and Kirk laughs, and the conversation turns to how much exactly they can get away with before Spock turns them all in to headquarters.

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But Chekov apparently hasn't forgotten his challenge, because Sulu's communicator chimes as he's watering his favorite orchids, and the message makes him almost flood the pot.

 _4 days until I can touch you_.

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He gets Chekov back the next morning, when Chekov makes the mistake of checking Sulu's message in the line of the mess hall – _3 days until I get you in my bed_ – and drops his tray all over Cupcake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sulu's not even out of his quarters the next day before his communicator chimes, and he at least has the sense to put down his morning tea before he checks it.

 _2 days until I can taste you._

Chekov has never looked more satisfied then when Sulu is late getting to the bridge.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And he's never looked more let down than when there's no message for him in the morning, or at lunch, or after his run. Sulu plays it cool, and waits until around 2200 to pick up his communicator.

 _Do you have any idea what I'll be doing to you tomorrow night at this time?_

He's a little disappointed he isn't there to see Chekov's reaction. The cheeks pinking up. Perfect lips forming a surprised 'o'.

The communicator pings. _I can only hope_. Then there's a pause before, _you could describe it to me_.

Sulu smiles. _Nice try._ He bites his lip, then sends another message.

 _I love that I'm going to be the first one to touch you like this._

The response is almost immediate. _I'm coming to your quarters. Now._

 _NO. You've got 24 hours to go._ He half-expects to hear the door anyway, but only the communicator pings.

 _NOT. FAIR. HIKARU. I will be there first thing then._

 _Bridge duty_ , Sulu sends back. _And then there's your party_ …

He can hear Chekov's frustrated _ah!_ in his mind. _That party! I told the captain, it is not necessary. If I tell him the truth, do you think he will cancel?_

Sulu laughs, because if anyone would cancel a party on account of someone trying to get laid, it would probably be Jim Kirk. _No cancelling. We'll celebrate after. Now go to sleep, we don't want you falling asleep at your station_.

 _SLEEP! How am I supposed to sleep now?_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The party is, as Kirk had promised, awesome. There's dancing and drinks – Spock's eyebrow almost flies off his head when Scotty hands Chekov a shot, but Uhura's there to lay a soothing hand on his arm – and a message from Chekov's parents, who are every bit as hale and hearty and Russian as their son. Chekov dances with Uhura and Rand and Chapel and some ensign from Engineering that's a little too handsy for Sulu's taste before he makes his way back and sits heavily in the open chair next to Sulu. He's sweaty from the exertion and Scotty slides a drink his way. " _Zhank you, Meester Scott,_ " Chekov says, and giggles at his own accent.

McCoy rolls his eyes and wags a finger in his direction. "You better enjoy it, because it's your last one. I'm cutting you off, kid."

Chekov makes an offended noise. Kirk laughs. "Listen to him, Pavel. He knows from what he speaks."

"Ah, maybe you are right," Chekov proclaims. "In fact…" he sways dangerous, bumping into Sulu, "in fact, maybe I should pass on this one as well."

Sulu's eyes narrow. Chekov's barely had anything to drink – Sulu knows, he's been watching, because he doesn't want anything interfering with his plans – and besides, the kid may be small but he can drink most of them under the table. ("I'm Russian, Hikaru. They put _wodka_ in my baby bottle.")

"I think, maybe, I should return to my quarters, yes?" Chekov continues. He turns an innocent gaze to Sulu. "Lieutenant, you _vill_ help me?"

The _vill_ is a dead giveaway, because v's may confound him but Chekov's never had problems with his w's. _You sneaky little bastard,_ Sulu thinks, but just says, "Sure."

There's a chorus of goodbyes and happy birthdays as Sulu grabs Chekov's arm and hoists it over his shoulder, and they stumble out into the hall. Chekov keeps up the act until the turbolift doors close and he slides over to press up against Sulu.

"That was good, no?" he says, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

"You are very crafty," Sulu praises as the doors open, and Chekov grins. "Now come on." He drags him into his quarters, stopping him right inside the door. "Stay here," he murmurs, and quickly goes around his desk to type out a few commands. The lights dim, and soft music starts to play.

"You have put thought into this," Chekov teases.

"It's the only thing I've thought about for the last month," Sulu admits, unashamed. "I've been so distracted, I still can't believe I didn't fly us into an asteroid." He approaches Chekov slowly, and takes his hand, only to find it's shaking. "Pavel. You're nervous?"

"I –" Chekov ducks his head. "I want this so much, Hikaru. But I fear, how you say - my bravado is abandoning me."

"Hey." He draws Chekov in and just holds him for a minute. Chekov's arms come up around his shoulders. "It's just me. It's always been just me."

Sulu feels Chekov's smile against his neck. "You've never been _just_ anything, Hikaru."

 _God_ , Sulu thinks, what ever made him think he could resist this. He runs his hands through light curls, then tugs Chekov's head up.

"We're gonna go slow," Hiraku says quietly. "You've never done this, and that's fine, but I don't want to overwhelm you."

Chekov nods. "I trust you," he whispers, and Sulu thinks his heart just might explode.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he murmurs, and Pavel just smiles. Sulu's true to his word and starts slow, soft, closed-mouth kisses for as long as he can stand it, before he gives in and gently tugs at Pavel's lower lip. Chekov gasps and the arms around Sulu's next pull even tighter. Sulu strokes the curls under his fingers, angles Chekov's head a little bit more, and licks across his lips, and Chekov opens up instantly with a moan. Sulu doesn't know how long they stay like that, kissing, hands stroking, before he pulls away, needing more.

Pavel looks dazed and needy and so damn sexy, and Sulu has to steal another kiss before he can talk. "Pavel." His hand sneaks up under the hem of Chekov's shirt and strokes, and Chekov makes a soft noise. Sulu tugs at his shirt. "I want to take this off."

"Yes," Chekov whispers. "Yes. Yours, too." Sulu nods.

"Yeah." He doesn't want Chekov to be scared so he goes first, hooking the edge of his shirts and pulling them off both at once. Chekov hesitates for a moment, then runs his hands down Sulu's chest and murmurs something in Russian. "Beautiful," he explains when Sulu gives him a look. "Can I -"

"You can do whatever you want," Sulu says, amused, but still gasps when Chekov kisses his bare shoulder, his neck, warm, open-mouthed kisses that makes Sulu's head swim. "Off," he says, pulling at Chekov's shirts, and helps Chekov out of his layers. Chekov's skinny but strong, and his muscles flutter as Sulu runs his hands up his flat stomach and over his pecs. Then Sulu rubs a thumb over a nipple. Chekov's eyes flutter shut and his breath quickens.

"You okay?"

Chekov nods, a little frantically. "Don't stop, Hikaru. Please."

"Never, Pavel." He kisses down Chekov's jaw, down his neck, nudges his chin up and mouths against his Adam's apple. Then he ducks down and takes a nipple in his mouth and Chekov jumps and yells something in Russian. Sulu laughs.

"You know I love hearing you speak Russian, Pavel, but English please." He nips at Chekov's lip. "I want to understand what you're saying. I want to know how I'm making you feel."

Pavel makes a pained noise but nods. "Okay, yes. I will try." Sulu dips back down, the other side this time, and Chekov can't help it, he can't think enough to translate what he's saying at first, before he gasps out, "sorry, English, is good, Hikaru, that is good," and Sulu grins.

"That's better," he says, and slides his tongue down Chekov's side and sucks at his abs. Chekov's knees buckle a little and he has to grab the wall to keep from tipping as he moans, and Sulu takes advantage of the opening. "How about we..." He nods his head towards the bed.

Chekov's eyes go wide, and Sulu worries he's pushed too far. "Or we could keep doing this -"

"No!" It comes out in a yell and Chekov looks just as surprised as Sulu by it. "Sorry, no, I want to, I just...I still cannot believe this is happening." He pulls Sulu closer and kisses him with the same singular focus he applies to his work, and Sulu can't help but feel a little irrational jealousy of the warp core for getting this kind of attention all the time. Then Chekov pulls back and whispers in his ear, _"take me to bed, Hikaru_ ," and this time it's Sulu's knees that are threatening to give way.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Sulu moans, and Chekov's eyes cloud up in excitement and lust and what can only be described as victory. Emboldened, he grabs Sulu's hips and pulls them against his own.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" he growls, and Sulu gasps. _So much for going slow,_ he thinks, and grabs Chekov's ass, eliciting a sharp squeal.

"You keep doing that," he threatens, "and we're not gonna make it to the bed."

Chekov can't answer but to moan, and Sulu takes back the momentum and walks them over to the bed, shoving Chekov down. "Lie back," he commands, and Chekov leans back on his elbows. Sulu reaches down and yanks off his boot and socks, then does the same to Chekov. "Get in the middle of the bed."

Chekov's breath quickens and he scrambles backward on his elbows as Sulu crawls up over him and straddles his hips. Cants his own hips forward.

Chekov whimpers, and bites his lip.

Sulu leans down, pulls the lip out with his own teeth, and kisses him. All gentleness is gone as he forces Chekov's mouth open and sucks his tongue. Chekov gives back as good as he gets, his hands in Sulu's hair, hips and legs undulating under Sulu's. "Please," he gasps. "Please, Hikaru."

Sulu bites his neck, his shoulder, then laves at the spots with his tongue. "Tell me what you want."

"I need you - _ai, Hikaru_ \- I need you to touch me. _Please."_

Sulu forces himself up. "You're sure?" he asks, because the only thing more unbearable than not touching Chekov is pushing too far, hurting him. Chekov thrusts his hips, and Sulu lifts up to break contact. Chekov whines, but stills, understanding Sulu's hesitation.

"Yes," he says, and strokes Sulu's cheek. "Yes, Hikaru, I am sure. I promise you."

Sulu swallows. "Okay. Okay, good." He kisses Chekov again, slower, more gently. "I want to make you feel good."

"Ah," Chekov smiles, "you have already done that, just by being near me," and Sulu has to shake his head at the feeling in his heart.

"Lay back," he says, and Chekov complies. Sulu slides down the bed until he is sitting on his heels between Chekov's legs, and reaches up to run his fingers just under the waistband of Chekov's pants. Chekov makes a strange noise, and Sulu realizes he's holding his breath. "Breathe, Pavel," he teases gently. "Or you're going to pass out before we get to the good parts."

Chekov exhales with a weak laugh and nods. "Good, Pavel," Sulu says, and pops open the button on Chekov's pants. He hazards a glance up to see Chekov has his eyes closed, breathing very deliberately, and Sulu has to duck his head to hide his laugh. Then he hooks his fingers around Chekov's waistband and pulls off his pants and boxer-briefs - Starfleet regulation, he notes with a grin, same as his - before coming to stand at the bottom of the bed.

"Pavel, open your eyes," he whispers, and Chekov does. "You're beautiful like this," Sulu tells him, running his hands up the strong runner's legs. Chekov blushes, and Sulu notes with great interest that the blush goes down his neck, across his chest. He places his knee on the end of the bed to climb back up but Chekov leans up and stops him with a hand of his chest.

"No," he says, voice raspy. "Not until you take yours off."

Sulu grins, predatory, and nods. Chekov lays back down, eyes heavy, and watches as Sulu strips off his own remaining clothes and tosses them to the floor. Chekov mutters something in Russian before switching back to English. " _Fuck, Hikaru,_ get up here _now."_

 _"_ Yes, _sir,_ " Sulu tosses off, and Chekov laughs.

"You are lucky I am not captain," he says. "I would abuse my authority horribly with you."

"And I would obey your every command," Sulu replies, and when Chekov shivers, Sulu makes a note to explore that particular kink later. "But in the meantime..." He crawls up the bed, coming to lie down alongside Chekov. He slides a leg in between Chekov's, and he gasps at the pressure, so Sulu does it again. Chekov's eyes are closed, his breathing quick, and Sulu just watches him for a moment before he licks at the shell of Chekov's ear, and whispers, "I'm going to touch you now." Chekov moans, nods, and his curls brush against Sulu's face. Sulu breathes deep, smelling soap and the _Enterprise_ and Pavel.

Sulu ghosts his hand down the smooth chest, against the taunt thigh before lightly grasping Chekov's erection. Chekov's eyes fly open and his mouth opens in a silent moan, and Sulu has to stop himself from stroking himself. He wants to concentrate on Chekov, on his face, on the noises he makes as Sulu strokes, slow at the first, then faster and firmer, and plies him with kisses, to his lips, face, neck.

Chekov arches up, a streaming babble of Russian and English pouring out, before gasping out Sulu's name and coming hard, and Sulu thinks he's never seen anything more beautiful.

"Fuck, Pavel," he moans, and he can't help it, he has to touch himself, because he wants it to be about Pavel but he's so hard it hurts.

"No, Hikaru, wait -" and then Sulu's on his back and Chekov is kissing him and shoving his hand off so Chekov can stroke him, his grip surprisingly sure. Afterwards, Sulu feels he should be embarrassed by how fast he comes but he isn't, not when it feels so fucking good and Chekov looks so pleased with himself.

When he can speak again, which is some time, between fighting to get his breath back and being kissed by Chekov, Sulu murmurs, "Jesus, Pavel. And here I thought I was going to be teaching you." Chekov laughs.

"No need for a curve?" he teases, and Sulu has to kiss him.

"No curve. A+, all by yourself."

"Ah, thank you, _professor_." Chekov's eyes twinkle, and Sulu _really_ makes a note to explore that particular kink later. Then he grins and flips Chekov without warning, climbing on top of him and pinning him to the bed.

" _Oof_!" Chekov squeaks.

"I wouldn't get so _cocky_ ," Sulu warns, pressing his hips down, moaning when Chekov whimpers and spreads his legs wider, one foot wrapping around his calf. "We have quite a few more _lessons_ to go."

"Yes," Chekov gasps out, his hand clawing at Sulu's back, his ass. "I want it all. I want to feel everything with you." All of Sulu's arrogance dissolves at Chekov's words, and he grabs at Chekov's hair and kisses him, thrusting his tongue in Chekov's mouth in time with his hips until they're both coming again, not as hard but just as satisfying. Sulu collapses down on top of Chekov, panting, and Chekov gives a very satiated sigh, his hands coming to rest in Sulu's thick hair.

"Pavel?"

"Hmmmm?"

Sulu lifts his head up. "Happy birthday, baby."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few decks away, in a significantly larger set of quarters, Jim Kirk laughs to himself.

The bed shifts as McCoy turns his head. "Damn it, Jim, I was almost asleep. What the hell are you laughing at?"

 _"Lieutenant, you vill help me?"_ Jim echoes in an exaggerated voice, and McCoy chuckles.

"Bless his little Russian heart, he thought he was being so coy."

"Ah, they're worried it'll be frowned upon. It's cute."

"They're worried because up until tonight, it was illegal."

"Relax, Bones." Kirk grins. "Sulu was a gentleman. Tonight was their first night together and from what I can tell, Chekov's first night, period."

McCoy shoves himself up on his elbows. "And how in the hell do you know that?"

"Remember a few weeks ago, when I saw they were comming each other more than usual? I may have hacked their communicators."

"Jim!"

"I had to!" Jim protests. "I can't have my crew keeping secrets from me!"

" _You're_ worried about secrets?" McCoy retorts, and gestures between the two of them.

"Bones, we are the worst kept secret in the fleet, even you have to know that. When was the last time you slept in your quarters?"

"I sleep there," McCoy grouses. Jim chuckles, and kisses his shoulder.

"Yeah, when I have to drag you out of Medbay and you're too tired to make it back here." He strokes along McCoy's bare back.

"Jim? The communicators?"

"Hmmm – oh, yeah. So 36 days ago, they start a countdown. To today."

" _No._ "

"Mm-hmm." Jim looks so pleased with it all. "And five days ago? It got _dirty_."

McCoy's jaw drops open.

"Trust me, Bones." Kirk lays back down on his pillow. "Pavel Chekov became a man today, in more ways than one."

"Well, shit. Good for him."

"Now that they're sleeping together, maybe they'll stop being so squirrelly on the bridge."

"Speaking of sleep…" McCoy pulls the blankets up to his chin. "Why don't you try it. We all have to be on duty in 6 hours."

"Not them. I gave them both the day off." McCoy can practically hear Jim's grin in the dark. "Happy birthday, Mr. Chekov.


End file.
